Avery was hurrying now, sensing the plight of her friends. Each room of Trayus Academy was filled with Sith, and she was at the point where she would raise her face and send down Lightning until the men dropped like flies at her feet. The only difficulty was stepping over the bodies.
She was almost hit in the face by an opening door down one corridor, but the electricity died in her fingers when she saw Mandalore step out.
"There you are. We need to find the others. The Zabrak tried to surprise the old woman. Ended up sent off somewhere else instead. I've been trying to find where they've been kept."
Avery nodded curtly at the leader and closed her eyes. Here, on the planet, it took all her concentration just to pick up wisps of thought. There was so much interference that a light sheen of sweat covered her forehead. Her head was aching by the time she was able to form the thoughts into language.
…wonder where she is. The Master told us she'd be coming, but I don't know if other troops have stopped her already…
So beautiful to me. A creature not truly Sith or Jedi. That is why Traya loves her. That is why she is the weakness of both myself and my Master.
…Avery?
Mical! Finally. Do you know where you are?
Vaguely. The cells in the Proving Grounds, in the southeast area. He was barely able to tell her coherently, and the connection dropped.
The Exile took a deep breath and then nodded curtly to Mandalore. "Proving Grounds to the south. They're in the cells there. You have to go."
"But what about-"
"I need to get to Kreia. I don't have time. I know they'll want to say goodbye, but I can't. Maybe after…"
Avery was blessed that Mandalore was the one she found, because he didn't question her or argue. He simply watched her for a second more, and then left the room.
"Is Malachor as you remembered?"
"Yes," the Exile replied simply. Darth Traya was motionless in the dead center of the platform, directly above the core of the planet. Her quiet attitude was deceiving though. Avery knew Traya wished to fight her.
"I don't understand. What was all this for? What were you trying to accomplish?"
"You still think I did all this for reasons that allowed for personal gain? You were what I was trying to accomplish. If you defeat me here, it will be my greatest triumph."
"That's ridiculous," the girl replied quickly.
"To you, I suppose. But I hate the Force. I hate that it controls, that one cannot survive without it. You were able to cut yourself off from it so completely, so utterly. You chose to leave it. You did not need it to be complete. Revan, of course, was the opposite. He loved you dearly, perhaps for that reason. While he is the heart of the Force, you are the death of the Force. And I had to see that death, prove that it was possible. What I did was not selfish."
"It was entirely selfish. You manipulated everyone around you, lied and stole and cheated your way here, just to betray others and get what you want."
"Then perhaps you have not truly seen or understood anything."
Avery's frustrations rose to the surface. "Or perhaps you are in disbelief. I am not your student. I am not some test or example. These ideas of free will in an individual and the Force being broken are preposterous. Your power is not your own, and that makes you bitter. You are just an old woman who has grown to depend on something she hates."
For the first time, Avery saw what Kreia looked like when she was truly angry. There was no secret control under the surface, no manipulation to steer the conversation. The hilt of her saber came out, and there was no noble victory in the old woman now. Instead, there was a vicious rage, a drive to be proven right. She practically spat at the Exile. "It appears I was wrong about you, after all."
Avery's eyes glittered. She slowly pulled out each lightsaber, deliberately watching every move the Sith Lord made. A silver flash, then a violet, and she spun them in her hands. I'm ready. More ready than she'll expect. She crouched a little, waiting for her old mentor.
Kreia's face twisted as she accelerated the Dark side, her blood red saber at the ready. They circled each other for a moment.
Avery felt the tension in her hands, gripping the hilts as hard as they could, her mind constantly cycling through numbered sequences of cards. She wouldn't broadcast her thoughts, and wouldn't charge in. For once, she was listening to what Revan had taught her. She couldn't make the first move here.
Abruptly and with a shrill scream, Kreia's arm shot forward, and an invisible grip tightened on Avery's neck. Choking her. Her head snapped back, feet lifting off the floor, the air coming into her lungs shutting out. She was going to die.
Avery, fighting panic, closed her eyes. There had to be a way to get out of this. There was dark energy practically radiating out of Kreia's connection. She just had to bounce it back.
She allowed that panic to set in, fear at her fate, hatred of this old woman. As black dots appeared in her vision, she sent the Force bursting through the invisible arm, twisting and curling. Kreia dropped the hold as it reached her.
The old woman sent her lightsaber hurling at Avery, who easily deflected it with her own. "I'm not some common thug you can throw your weapon at. You are a foolish old woman."
"And you are an incompetent child," Kreia shouted back. "I will show you how little you have learned!"
The hairs on the Exile's arm stood up. She sensed a slight crackle, a hiss in the air, and her lightsaber darted up as her mentor shot lightning at her. It absorbed the energy, just as Avery absorbed the Dark Force that Kreia channeled. It was adding on to itself- a Sith Lord's Force was drowning Avery's other energies.
At once, she was filled with seething hatred- fury and loathing she had never known existed. She wanted to see this old creature suffer. Her palm rose, and Kreia's body came along with it: her fingers curled; Kreia let out a wail, her body curving backward. Avery was laughing. She wanted to see the old woman's pain, see her find out that all she had believed was wrong. The darkness in her boiled over.
Her hand clenched, she flung her arm downward. Kreia shot down to the edge of the abyss, and all Avery could see were her wrinkled hands, long nails scratching at the ground above.
The Dark side, flowing from Traya to the conduit Jedi, was feeding off the Exile. She strolled lazily to stand above the old woman with a delighted sneer on her face.
"I can use what you believe is too dark. I can channel what you channel. When you die- finally die- I will go back to what I was. You, however, will be blotted from all existence. Nothing you can do now will impede my power."
A silver lightsaber stroked the ground in front of Traya's fingers like a brush on a canvas. "I have learned a great deal. Enough that this will be a treasured moment for me. I have become greater, old woman."
Avery raised her graying face to the stars, and electricity buzzed in the air. Traya would die, painfully and thoroughly, through her own powers. How funny. The Exile smiled again. Perhaps this Sith Lord idea wasn't so terrible as she'd thought.
He was running down the halls, each corridor stretching for miles only to bring another when he rounded the corner. He had to find her. If she couldn't-
He reached the end of a hall and stopped short. Sion was in the center of a large room, slowly getting to his feet. If he'd looked pieced-together on Peragus, he looked like he would fall apart any second now. His only good eye was bloodshot, and he was trembling.
On the left side of the room, however, was a door. A door Atton suddenly knew without a doubt led to Avery.
He bolted, but Sion's palm outstretched when Atton was a few feet away, and the Jedi landed flat on his back.
"Move aside," Sion growled. "I…I must kill the Exile…"
He began to stride forward, but Atton was up instantly. He reached into his belt and his green lightsaber flashed out, a clear warning.
"That's funny," he replied. "I have to go save her. Seems we're not off to a good start here."
The Sith was sizing him up, uncertain. Atton didn't exactly shine with the Light side, but there had always been more to him than met the eye. Sion sensed little fear in this Jedi, and that was a most worrisome aspect.
His weapon was brought out, and Atton snorted. "A red lightsaber. Wow. Didn't see that one coming."
"I…I let her go. She was here, just as the old woman had planned, and I should have killed her. I let her go so many times when I should have killed her."
Sion was motionless for a long stretch of time. Atton's muscles were tensed- he was prepared for a strike at any second, despite the faraway expression twisting Sion's ugly features. Eventually, one red eye looked toward the door. "I would have died for her, I think. That's why I must amend for my mistakes. I must kill her, because it is the worst weakness I could possess to let her live. Traya will do far worse. There is no reason for her to suffer at the old woman's hands. Get out of the way."
Bright green flickered over Atton's face as he spun his saber up to hold it with both hands. "Look, bud, your logic is screwed. You'd die for her, so you're going to kill her? It doesn't make sense. I'd die for her too, but logically that means I have to stop you. This cross-purposes thing is just getting worse."
Sion's face was utterly impassive as he glanced at Atton, as if he were an insect that had landed on the wall. His red lightsaber rose.
"Shame," Atton said dejectedly. "We could have been such great friends."
There had to be a way to survive. Traya's fingernails scrambled at the ledge as the Exile's greying face leered down at her. Avery's hand was outstretched, the skin already darker and crumbling. The only way to stop her would be to stop her from channeling the-
Traya abruptly locked down. Her fury turned to indifference, her pain was numbed. She shut herself off from the anger.
The red in Avery's eyes vanished instantly. Her sneer turned to panic as Kreia began to drain the Force from her.
"What are you- no. NO. Stop!"
Kreia lifted herself up and over, pulling Avery's energy out. She couldn't empty her, or even make a large difference, but she knew how greatly the Exile feared the sensation of losing the Force.
"You have become greater? And what are you, without the Force?"
The chaos had been drawn out, and Avery was weak and unsteady now. She had to channel the Force again, had to find calm, or she wouldn't live. She took deep breaths and forced her trembling knees to go still.
"I survived once without it. It's my guide, not my breath." Violet and silver flashed in Avery's eyes. "It looks as though channeling won't do either of us any good. Come, Traya. Let us see how you fare against me with a lightsaber."
The Sith raised a gnarled hand, and within seconds her weapon appeared back in her hand. "You are just as blind, just as deaf as any Jedi. You must have the Force to be anything. When you lost it, you were nothing. You can know nothing, do nothing, without the Force. That is our curse."
Avery's silver saber shot up as Traya's red one smashed down into it. The weapons hissed briefly before Avery shoved back and drew her saber up and across. Traya's hand turned, red blocking the slash, and whipped back to the other side, where Avery's purple saber was crossing over.
"As all of you great Masters of the Force, you are wrong. I could live without it. Unlike you. I know how to fight without it, unlike you."
Traya drove forward for Avery's torso, and the Exile neatly stepped aside and spun, one saber headed for Traya's neck while the other aimed for her side again. Both Traya's hands grasped her red saber, and she held it overturned to block both attacks.
"All you have learned, you have learned from me," the old woman spat. Avery could sense an outpouring of energy from the Sith's withered frame, and as she stepped back, another red lightsaber, independent of a wielder, swung threateningly in the air.
Just as Avery brought her lightsabers to the ready, she felt a hot slash streak across her back. She cried out, spun, blocked a second autonomous lightsaber that had appeared behind her, and Force pushed both back at Traya. She needed just a second, one second-
Traya suspended their momentum, took a moment to gain control again. In that time, Avery had managed to summon the blue smoke. It curled around her ankles, slowly winding its way up, as the lightsabers dove down again. Avery ran.
Sion's saber slashed down with such force that as Atton rolled, the weapon's impact in the floor sent cracks along the ground. Atton's boot flew up to kick Sion squarely in the jaw, and to his astonishment, pieces of skin tore off. This guy truly was falling apart.
"I do not have time for this!" the Lord of Pain roared. "I must kill her-"
Another kick backed by Force energy to his torso sent Sion crashing into a pillar. Atton knew he could win this fight, but only if Sion was focused on Avery: his pain and hatred were subdued enough to suppress the Dark powers he had.
When Sion managed to stand, he was looking at Atton now instead of the door. This was the source of his impediment. If he could get past this Jedi, his problems would be fixed in a matter of moments.
As Atton saw Sion's energies shift, he surrounded himself with a wall of protection just as lightning lit Sion's fingertips. Get the focus on Avery.
"You like her, don't you?" he asked knowingly as his wall dissipated. "As much as somebody like you can, at least. That's what you meant when you mentioned the whole dying for her thing."
Sion was ignoring him, so Atton tried harder. "Why? You don't know her. She's even on the wrong side."
"She is no more of the Light than I am," he seethed. "She only siphons it from others, just as she siphons the Dark. She is not one or the other. She is…herself."
"Not a bad theory, buddy. I just fail to see how you two would have a working relationship-"
He rolled to the left when Sion's lighting drove out. He had to think up a strategy, or he'd be dead in seconds. If Sion could repair any wound with the Force, bring himself back from any injury with the Dark side, the only thing to do would be…
He pulled his weapon up just in time to block Sion's attack. Their sabers crashed against each other in rapid strikes, neither one taking the offensive advantage, until Atton managed to Push the Lord back into a pillar. He knew what to do, now. Someone had done it to him before, and he'd lost a great deal of will then. If he could do it, he could help Avery.
Three of them now, thrashing dangerously close behind her. Avery channeled a burst of speed and ducked behind a pillar. They hit the stone before jerking around, and Avery now had a ready stance. The smoke seeped into the slash at her back, and she was healed.
Cross both sabers up. One above, move right hand up, move left hand down to block two. Third coming in for heart, push against one and two and bring both sabers up to sweep against three. One stabs downward, step back, ready for two's thrust to stomach. Three behind, cross right hand back and flip down.
It all occurred in swift flashes, but Avery couldn't keep up against three lightsabers that never tired. She had to think of something else.
As she ducked and rolled away, she saw Traya. Surely, the Sith would be cackling at her unless she was utterly absorbed…and weakened by this new strategy.
In the time it had taken for Sion to pull himself up, Atton had summoned every snapshot of Avery he had in his head, every moment he felt overwhelming joy in her presence, every kiss and sigh and touch of her skin. And when Sion locked eyes with him, Atton blasted it all through the Force.
The Lord of Pain stumbled back again, hands scrambling against the ground, backing away as if the memories were a physical thing. "I will not fall. I cannot die."
"Do yourself a favor," Atton said quietly as Sion gasped. "Stop pulling yourself together and enduring such pain for this. You don't have to anymore."
The Lord of Pain began to breathe rhythmically, eyes closed. "I've wanted to for a long time."
"Just let it go."
As Sion began to slow down, the redness in his skin turned an ash gray. Atton was sending the quietest, the most peaceful memories now, and the perpetual agony in the Sith Lord was fading away. He just managed to breathe out, "Finally," before his body dissipated, and after all that time, he gave himself to the Force.
This was her chance. Everything had come down to these last few seconds.
The Exile was not afraid, for Visas had taught her that in fear lies death. Her injury was gone, due to Mical's instruction in quick Force healing. The lightsabers she had constructed with Bao Dur were an extension of her will, not merely weapons; each part adding to her strengths in battle. The evening drills with Mira on reflexes ensured her quickness was as it had been in the War. HK-47 had showed her the best tricks for killing a powerful Jedi, and that combined with Mandalore's hunger for battle and honor kept her confident. And in her mind, she was focused on a card game with a man on the floor of her ship- she was unpredictable and mentally protected.
Three weapons chasing her, Avery leapt up and brought both lightsabers down to sink into Traya's back.
The independent weapons vanished instantly, and Traya dropped. Avery felt Traya holding herself together with the Force, desperate to recover, desperate to survive.
"You did not teach me anything," the Exile explained as she looked down at the fallen Sith. "You only reminded me of what I'd known before. All I've learned since waking, all I've learned since I lost the Force, has been from my companions- my friends- who believed in what I was and chose to fight for the things I tried to accomplish. You did not learn the priceless things I did, due to the privilege I had of leading them. Their teachings, not yours, are why I won."
Darth Traya's black eyes looked up into Avery's silver ones, and for once the old woman looked tragic. "Yet you have rewarded me more than you can possibly imagine. All that is left for me is to show you what is to come. I doubt any of your friends-" her body racked with coughing, "could teach you of your future. And I see many things as I gaze here from the heart of Malachor."
Avery was wary, but Traya's thoughts were pitiful. She could not be useless, she could not have worked so hard only to have done nothing for the Exile in the end. This was the only gift she could manage.
"Tell me of my friends."
"They were the Lost Jedi, you know. The true Jedi, upon which the future will be built. They simply needed a leader, and a teacher."
Even as Avery smiled a little, Kreia began. "Mira will stop hunting life, and instead live it. She will miss you, and think of you often. Her death will occur in many years' time on a forgotten planet, saving the lives of others. But it will be her choice, and she will have no regrets."
That, to Avery, was an acceptable life for her friend. "And Mandalore?"
"Many battles does that one have left in him…as Revan intended. A general needs an army, as he needs those he trusts. And Canderous is a loyal beast. There is one he is connected to, the blinded one, though I cannot see that far. But she shall return to her homeworld, and she shall look upon the surface of that world and perhaps at last see what she was meant to see. Her life has been changed by your meeting, in ways that may not be felt for decades to come."
"Did I save her?"
"Salvation is a relative thing. But as you understand it, yes."
"And the Disciple?"
Kreia laughed to herself through the pain. "He cannot help but love you, in his way. It is a pure, ideal love he holds, strengthened by your presence and your actions. Quite far from the love another experiences for you. If he leaves this place, he will leave the galaxy behind him. He will sit upon the new Council reluctantly, as all good men do, and he will not forget the Jedi who had lost the Force, and yet showed him the way to reclaim it. And of the ones who traveled with you, that is all I see."
"But what about Atton?"
"Atton…" The old woman trailed off thoughtfully, her breathing coming in with great difficulty now. "Atton is, as always, the fool. And the Force watches out for one such as him, I feel."
"Did…" Avery took a moment, swallowed, started again in a whisper. "Did he love me?"
"He is a fool. That should answer your question. He has nothing to offer one such as you, and even he is not so ignorant of that fact. But he will try."
Avery looked down thoughtfully as Kreia's breaths became shallow pants. The old woman was curling up now, but she spoke. "What you have learned here must not be allowed to die. Whatever you choose, wherever you go, take it with you. Take it to him, if you go."
"Revan." It wasn't a question.
"Yes. He came here. Malachor lies on the fringes of the ancient Sith Empire, where the true Sith wait for us. Revan knew that the true war is not against the Republic. It waits for us beyond the Outer Rim. And he has gone to fight it. Perhaps you shall go there with him, and do battle at the end of all things."
Avery looked up across the core, toward the dock where Kreia had landed. So many pieces he placed, so many choices he made, all for something beyond what any of them could see. Without knowing how, she understood that he was hoping, waiting for her past the Outer Rim. He'd selected her for more than just the war she experienced. He needed her for the real war.
Of course she would go.
Kreia, accepting, finally at peace, let out one more sigh and went still.
Seven figures varying in height burst into the room and startled Avery out of her thoughts. Mandalore led her team through, who were surveying the aftermath.
"You're alive," Bao Dur said dryly. "I'm amazed."
"I could say the same about all of you," the Exile shot back. She was unable to fight the smile on her face. "But where's Atton?"
"He met up with us a few minutes ago, but he wandered off again. We had to find you before we looked for him. Priorities." Mira winked at her, and Mical chuckled.
"Observation: It appears the wrinkled one has finally been destroyed. I trust it was a merciless killing, Master. Otherwise I would truly be disappointed."
"Of course."
"So what's the plan now?" Mandalore asked. "Besides getting off this hellhole as fast as we can?"
For the first time since the team walked in, Avery's face fell. "You'll find Atton and take the Ebon Hawk out."
"That should be 'us,'" Mical corrected. "We will be taking the Hawk."
When she turned to him wordlessly, he shook his head. "Whatever it is, no."
"I have to."
"Regardless of what you think, it can be rearranged."
"No, it-"
"He's right," Bao Dur said promptly. "You're going with us. I don't care what mission you think you need to go on."
"Look…" She glanced over them all. "I'm headed for the Outer Rim. Likely to my death. There's someone I need to help, and I can't risk anyone else going."
Visas looked up from her hood. "I…I would go with you, if you would allow it."
The Exile paused, then sighed. "No. I have another job for all of you. Something that's vital to what I'm going to do. You have to train others."
"Others?" Mira echoed. "What others?"
"Kreia spoke of Revan, and another war that waits beyond the Rim. You must all gather forces, train them for the next war, show them the way. And wait. No one else can do this. I need you all to. You're the only ones who can. That's why you must stay behind."
Visas nodded. "I shall do as you ask. I shall train others who will follow."
"And I," Mira joined in.
"And…I," Bao Dur said reluctantly. "I should like to fight alongside you again, General. But if this is more important, I understand."
"The Mandalorians will always be prepared for war," Mandalore stated. "And I will always be ready to fight for Revan. Or for you."
Mical's expression went from determination to reluctance, and finally to a pained acceptance. He abruptly walked up and planted a firm kiss on her mouth. "I shall stay behind," he said quietly. "But it is no small sacrifice."
"I know."
Mical stepped back so that Mira could wrap Avery in a hug. After her, Bao Dur held Avery for a long time, long enough that HK let out a couple of scathing comments and he let her go. Mandalore gave her a firm handshake, Visas a brief touch on the arm, and then it took all the force in her body for the Exile to make herself turn and walk away from them. Each step brought the distance too far, too fast, but she couldn't turn around or she'd run right back to them. In those few endless seconds, they were back in the Academy, and she turned the corner.
Exiting down the dark hallway to Kreia's ship, she'd never felt so alone in her life. Kreia was dead, her companions, though safe, were likely to never see her again, and now she had to fly into the unknown to find her Master. She couldn't wait for Atton- it was better for him, and for her own willpower, if she left without saying goodbye. With every step, the growing distance between her and the people she cared for, the weight of her losses, pressed heavier on her shoulders until finally she was at a dead stop in the pool of light leading to the ship. She had nothing again, just as before. She'd lost everything.
But she had to keep going, regardless, like when she left the War. She had to.
When she looked up, there was a lanky figure ahead of her silhouetted against the light with his shoulder leaned up against the doorframe. Atton grinned widely, a nasty cut bleeding on his cheek, and he holstered his lightsaber. "Need any company?" he asked flippantly. "I mean, I'm not doing anything."
For a moment, Avery only stared at him blankly. Then, as if she were afraid she'd wake up, she took a few careful steps forward.
"Besides, if I'm not around to bail you out of trouble, who knows what could happen? Come on. It'll be fun."
He shifted off the wall and looked down into her face. She was studying him in silence, her eyes traveling over his features, and he waited until she emerged from her thoughts. A little smile quirked the corners of her mouth. "I guess you can."
"All right then!" he exclaimed in satisfaction. As they headed toward the ship, he threw his long arm across her shoulders. "So where are we going again? I mean, because last time, we were heading toward this mining colony on the verge of space, and there was this Sith Lord, who by the way, was destroyed by yours truly…"